Broken Hearts Parade.

Let’s just say that the whole packing thing isn’t helping me keep my new year’s resolution.  That I would always be able to see my floor.  I have a legitimate excuse: two weeks out of the country, that’s what!  But then again, I have a feeling that I’m creative enough to come up with excuses for the rest of the year too.

Remember that empty suitcase from Thursday?  Yep, it’s still empty.  My floor, on the other hand, and my bed and desk chair have become covered with the things that will eventually have to be crammed into that little thing.  It’s psychological or something.  I can’t bring myself to put the first few things in there for fear that the way I pack them will hinder me from fitting all the necessities in.

It’s a disease.  The Panicky-Packer Disease.  Suitcaseanxietyitis.

On the other hand, I’m having fun practicing to wear a scarf on my head.  (pictures below illustrate that.)

  yep.  I like the scarves.  These pictures make me look so much paler than I really am.  Come on, Photo Booth, show the small vestige of skin pigment I have left!  Oh well, that’s probably what I’ll seem like to the Indian people.  Tall.  Blonde.  WHITE.

I keep having these moments where I’ll – all of a sudden – be completely overcome with excitement so that I can’t breathe for a minute or so.  So I just take these really shallow breaths and make excited faces… then keep packing.  Sometimes I laugh out loud because I’m so excited.

(I don’t think I’m very normal.)

Granted, I don’t really want to be normal.  I want to be extraordinary.  I want God to take me places I’ve never been, places I never thought I’d go, make me into a person I never thought I could be.

Hence the excited faces, because that’s what I’m about to do.  In 2 days, my Jesus is going to go with me to a far away country that I’ve never been.  Then I’m going to meet new people, see new things, try new foods, feel new things, have my heart broken completely (that’s the goal), and then I’ll come home.  I’ll be in my “normal” place, but because of what I’ve seen, I’m sure I’ll never be the same again.

And THAT is very exciting to me.

I’ve had this line going through my head today, “break my heart til it moves my hands and feet.”  And that is really the goal of this trip: to be so broken by the injustice and malice and evil that is human trafficking, that it moves my hands and feet and all the people with whom I share my stories.

It’s not just about wearing the scarves and long skirts and eating curry.  Actually, it’s not really about those at all.

Break my heart, Jesus.  Break it.

Love146’s broken hearts club (go there!!!   click the link!)

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